Its a couple years back, I’m at like a Macy’s with my boy, he’s going off about some chick he’s dating. I make some joke about how latinas be keeping box cutter blades in their cleavage
“I thought it was the mouth”
We turn around, it’s two women, one white and one of Hispanic descent.
“Where do you keep yours”
“Keep making jokes you’ll find out”
This isn’t the story about how I got sliced up in a department store rather how I met…I think I named her CC in an earlier post. (this is #210 i forget things). So yada yada yada, I’m dating/talking to CC now…
…or so I thought.
We texted frequently, went out on dates, slept with each other, but one day I look on Facebook and she’s hugged up with another man.
Well that’s interesting. Of course, I inquire about this guy and how he hasn’t come up in our conversations, she explains he’s someone she talks to, like me, but he ain’t her man either so keep calm and come thru later. That night I’m on my way home from her crib (don’t judge me, judge your auntie) a bit confused about what I been doing the past few months? You mean I was single this whole time? Throw on that Mark Morrison, its the Return of the Mack.
Well not really, ain’t nobody want my ass. But I did start seeing other people outside of CC; took a page out of her book, I’m single until clearly stated otherwise. One day I was out with I think it was “Ms Wit”, I get a text from “Her”, she heard through the grapevine I was at the mall with some chick #streetsiswatching. I tell her that her intel is correct, last I checked I was single so she needn’t fret.
Oh; that realization that in spite of all the sweet nothings and assumed loyalty, they are not yours until you explicitly state so. The realization sets at different times, some more often than others, in my examples it was stated rather bluntly but more commonly, it comes when they are claimed by someone else while you was asleep at the wheel. Its the dark side of tolerationships, situationships, frielationships and any other term for gray area dating. Relationships aren’t defined by feelings, they are by expectations. I could care about you, even love you but you’re not mine and I’m not yours until we talk that talk.
The gray area is convenient, in an era of increased technology and ways to communicate you don’t realize how many hours you’re investing in someone who isn’t and possibly never will be yours. I’ve got hit with a few “Ohs”. Entertaining myself cordial exes and boos and when something real comes along they have no need to play pretend with me anymore. I can charge that to the game; if I liked it then I should’ve put a ring on it (c) B.G. Carter-Knowles, and I didn’t. Maybe I didn’t want her as much as my ego is trying to convince me I do now…
Plenty of times me and CC could’ve had a talk about what it was we were doing, neither of us was concerned. Me and “Her” knew we reached our climax but we were equally petty so we kept sabotaging each other. I look back on all the pseudo relationships I had and when I think about why they never took that next step, turns out I just didn’t want to. I’ll get jealous, maybe a little hurt, but then the cognizance sets in that if I knew better, I’d do better, and I did nothing.